Dreams of Flying
by She's a Star
Summary: *Now being re-written.* Satine. She was a legend. A star, a goddess, a sparkling diamond. Love saved her, but what was her life like before she knew it existed?
1. Alone

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Dreams of Flying

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Satine's Story

by She's a Star

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Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to O Great Baz Luhrmann. However, a few characters I've made up are mine, and the story idea is mine, though there are a few fics out there that are similar...I started this aaages upon aaages ago.

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Author's Note: Oooh, the revision. Rita has inspired me to revise one of my stories, and I've decided that DoF gets to be it. It wasn't all that great before, and my writing style has changed v. much, so I'm hoping this one will be better. *crosses fingers* Read on, my diamond darlings!

Also, this probably isn't historically correct, as the Moulin opened in 1889, but let's just pretend it was open longer than that, 'kay? 'Kay.

~*~

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Chapter One: Alone

Emotions were dangerous. 

Satine knew that with a certainty that most refrained from feeling about matters more trivial than the fact that the sky was blue and the grass green. All she'd known was pain and betrayal, and one could say that it had ruined her.

She _would _appear to be an average girl of sixteen, though perhaps a bit taller, if it weren't for her eyes. Liquid pools of sapphire sky, they never seemed to sparkle. They were unfeeling, hardened. Almost like staring into the eyes of a corpse. There was no emotion.

They were only eyes.

Satine was flawless.

Her family was anything but rich, and her face was never quite clean, her clothes always hardly better than rags, her hair always unruly. Yet when she walked down the street, the passersby stared and whispered amongst themselves about what an unusually beautiful girl she was.

Her skin was perfect ivory, looking as though it belonged on a little girl's porcelain doll rather than a living being. Long red curls cascaded down her back, a waterfall of fiery crimson. She was tall and thin, and yet her height did not make her look awkward in the way that it would many other young ladies. Instead she looked elegant, refined; more a goddess than a girl.

And then there was her eyes, so mysteriously intriguing, lacking any trace of any emotion.

Where Satine's beauty had come from, no one could quite understand. Her mother, Gwendolyn, was a pretty woman, with straight brown hair and a kind disposition, but nothing extraordinary. Her father, Peter, had reddish hair and a face that had been handsome once, back before Satine could remember.

Happiness was something that Satine had experienced only once in her life. It was only the faintest of memories, a trace of sweetness from a dying rose. It had been raining, and she was walking down the street in London, one hand in her mother's and the other in her father's. It had been perfectly sunny until, without warning, the sky erupted into thunder and rain. 

Gwendolyn had burst into laughter, her gray eyes sparkling. Peter had wrapped his arms around her mother, and they'd exchanged a quick kiss before burying Satine in warm hugs. 

It was the last time she'd seen the slightest trace of affection between her parents.

They'd moved to Paris soon after, her father positive that business offers would be pouring in. A tiny, derelict apartment in Montmartre served as home, and Satine had been smothered by promises that it would only be temporary, perhaps a year or two.

Or eleven. 

Her father had slowly wasted away before her eyes; he slaved away long hours at a factory every day of the week, the pay barely enough to keep them all alive. The exhaustion was simply too much to bear, Satine had supposed. He began yelling at the both of them, and then yelling evolved into hitting. 

He wasn't so bad, when he was sober. But after a year, he found himself turning to La Fee Vert, desperate for an escape. She teased him, she flirted with him, she danced and sang and destroyed every drop of kindness he'd ever possessed. 

When he was drunk, his mind spiraled out of control. He often accused Gwendolyn of being unfaithful to him, of betraying him for a man called Edward that Satine had never heard of in her life.

And then the Moulin Rouge was born.

Oh, how she loathed the Moulin Rouge with a passion that those who saw her lifeless eyes wouldn't believe she was capable of feeling. He made it a habit of disappearing there until all hours of the morning, sometimes never returning. 

Still, Gwendolyn kept the sweet smile on her face, and did all in her power to keep Satine happy.

Satine wasn't happy, of course; she never had been, but she pretended she was, for her mother.

"We'll escape from here one day, Satine," Gwendolyn promised each night, her voice sweet and reassuring. "Fly away. We'll go back to London and see plays each night, and you'll find a nice man and get married and be happy..."

_Like you never were,_ Satine would always add silently to herself.

She would never dare to say it aloud.

One warm, balmy summer night, Satine sat beside the window, staring longingly outside at the stars. They danced through the sky, shooting and sparkling like diamonds. 

Satine had never seen a diamond in her life.

_What would it be like,_ the whimsical side of her asked, _To dance across the sky?_

_Hush up,_ the logical side ordered. _Why do you always go on and on about such nonsense? It's impossible._

And yet she still wanted to dance with the stars.

And have diamonds...all the diamonds in the world. 

And to fly away...

Leave all this to yesterday.

_Stop it, stop it, stop it!_ she ordered herself bitterly. _You're going to destroy yourself with all your dreams of stars and diamonds and flying._

They're just dreams.

~*~

Later that night, Satine awoke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of coughing coming from her mother's bed. She sleepily waited for it to subside, but instead it grew more and more violent.

The pale moonlight leaked through the window onto the thin blanket that covered her mother, and Satine realized that it was covered in blood.

Her heartbeat increased, but she forced herself to remain calm.

"Mama?" she asked timidly, raising from the falling-apart chair where she slept and slowly making her way to her mother's bedside.

"Sa...Satine," her mother sighed as the coughing died, a weak smile on her face. Her voice was so weak, so very weak...

She was dying.

"You're leaving me, aren't you?" Satine asked emotionlessly. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. If she started to cry now, she'd never stop.

There was too much to cry for.

Her mother nodded, eyes sparkling with tears.

"You get out of here, Satine," she ordered. "You're a beautiful, talented girl...fly away from here."

"I will," Satine said promptly, not sure whether she was lying or not.

"And, Satine?" her mother asked, coughing a bit. Blood had colored her pale lips ruby red. 

"Yes?"

"Fall in love," Gwendolyn said softly. "It's the most blissful thing in the world...just fall, Satine. Nothing else will matter."

Satine nodded numbly.

"I love you."

As soon as the words escaped Gwendolyn's lips, her eyes slowly closed, her shallow breath growing softer until they were nothing more than soft echoes in Satine's ears.

She was gone.

She was gone, and Satine was alone.


	2. Death

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Author's Note: I apologize in advance for my freakish fixation on Gorecki. I've been planning to use it for this purpose in this fic for a while, but didn't think of it until after I'd posted the first chapter of the original version.Yay. 

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Chapter Two: Death

The tears glittering in Satine's eyes pained her. They stung like a thousand tiny needles, plunging into the jaded orbs of blue, and yet she didn't allow them to fall. 

"Tears form behind my eyes," she breathed softly, a hint of a song spilling from her lips as she studied her mother's corpse with an unwavering gaze. "But I do not cry..."

An involuntary shiver shook her entire form, and she wrapped her arms around her shoulders in an awkward gesture that did nothing to revive the extinguished flame in her soul. 

She didn't know how long she sat there, staring transfixed at the mere shadow of the only kind person Satine had ever known. Words poured through her mind, so many words; bittersweet and filled with sorrow, an emotion more powerful than she should have allowed herself to feel.

_Goodbye to you...goodbye to everything that I knew..._

A hint of a golden sunrise had already cast itself over Paris skies when her father returned, the stench of alcohol on his breath as he laughed drunkenly at jokes only he seemed to hear.

Satine ignored him, eyes still fixed on her mother.

"What're you doin' up?" he slurred. "Yur s'posed to be sleeping."

"Your wife is dead," Satine responded evenly.

Stupid laughter escaped his lips, and he took a swig from the seemingly ever-present bottle of absinthe in his right hand. "What're you talking about?"

"She's dead," Satine repeated simply.

Peter crossed the room in a surprisingly swift movement for someone under the influence of alcohol, and wrapped one firm hand around Satine's thin wrist.

"Don't lie to me, girl," he snarled, blue eyes locking with Satine's. 

"I'm not," Satine replied, voice frighteningly devoid of emotion. "See for yourself."

She watched blankly as he released her and slowly made his way to his wife's bed.

"What's all this blood?" he asked, confused.

Satine didn't answer.

_And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time..._

He sank down onto the bed, lightly caressing Gwendolyn's cheek as though she would break at any moment. 

"Gwen," he mumbled, panicked laughter escaping his lips as a desperate smile spread across his face. "Gwen, it's me...it's Peter, it's me. Wake up."

The tears were back, stinging her eyes until she was forced to squeeze them shut.

_Tears form behind my eyes, but I do not cry..._

Do not cry...

"Mon cherie," she heard her father whisper. "Please, please open your eyes. I'm sorry I've been awful. I'm so sorry..."

_Do not cry..._

"I know that I wasn't as good to you as Edward could have been," Peter mumbled. "But I always tried, Gwen. God knows, I always tried. But you were always so beautiful and I never felt that I was making you happy, and it depressed me so awfully, and..."

He paused and looked up at Satine with desolate eyes, bloodshot and filled with tears.

"C...could you leave us alone, for just a minute?" he requested, sounding like a naive child, frightened to make a request. It seemed impossible that he was the same man who had used his hand against her mother so many times, and had sometimes hurt her as well.

He had, Satine knew now, always loved Gwendolyn. These weren't just the nonsense ramblings of some drunken fool.

And so she obliged, rising with a shaky breath and silently leaving the apartment.

She knew she wouldn't return.

_And when the stars fall, I will lie awake..._

"Do you remember our song, Gwen?" she heard her father ask as she shut the door quietly behind her. "You always had the most beautiful voice..."

_You're my shooting star._

She was about to leave, to make her way to the lobby and step outside, when she heard the soft beginning of a song, shaping itself from her father's voice.

_"If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear, for I've never known completeness like being here..."_

The tears that had been threatening her all night returned, and this time she didn't blink them back.

Instead, she listened.

_"Wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you...still my heart this moment, or it might burst."_

Tears streamed down her cheeks now, but they were obedient, silent tears, merely dancing down her face and not causing her to shake with sobs.

_"Could we stay right here until the end of time? 'Till the earth stops turning? Wanna love you 'till the seas run dry."_

The memory of her parents embracing in the rain filled Satine's mind, and as she listened to her father's tearful rendition of their song, she finally understood what love was.

_"I've found the one I've waited for..."_

And now she knew.

_"All this time I've loved you and never known your face..."_

Oh, how she knew.

_"All this time I've missed you, and searched this human race..."_

Regardless of what she'd promised her mother, she could never fall in love.

Her father was sobbing now, choking out the words through his tears. 

"H...here is true peace," he sang, voice so pained that it seemed his very soul was being ripped away from him. "Here my heart knows calm...s...safe in your soul, bathed in your sighs."

Love could only destroy you.

Satine wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a breath before turning and walking out of the apartment building and into the darkness of night.

* * *

In the end, it wasn't absinthe or whiskey that had destroyed Peter Devereaux.

_Wanna stay right here until the end of time, till the earth stops turning..._

It was a force more powerful than any alcohol could induce, a force more powerful than hate, greed, jealousy, anger...

_Gonna love you 'till the seas run dry..._

Love. 

_I've found the one I've waited for..._

More than anything he'd loved his wife, and now she was gone, dead.

And inside, he was now dead as well.

_The one I've waited for..._

Songs Used:

Goodbye to You by Michelle Branch

Gorecki by Lamb


	3. Painted Black

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Chapter Three: Painted Black

She vaguely wondered what time it was.

The sky was turning light; it seemed to mock her as the new dawn blossomed. Why couldn't rain pour from the heavens? Why couldn't gray clouds surround her, instead of that damned crystal clear sky?

_I see a red door and I want it painted black..._

The city still slept, and the hint of sun seemed to burn her skin as it danced along fiery curls. With an almost inaudible moan, she buried her face in her hands.

_No colors anymore; I want them to turn black..._

She gravely raised her gaze to the Moulin Rouge, which still danced with lewd laughter, obnoxious music, and color. 

She was so tired of color. She wanted to see in black and white.

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black..._

And still the Moulin Rouge sparkled.

_I wanna see it painted, painted, painted black...black as night._

She didn't notice as he first crept up to her, a drunken, toothless smile on his swarthy face. His breath reeked of liquor, the stench so overpowering that it caused her to look up and find him standing before her.

"Yer a tres belle petite lady," he slurred, making an awful attempt at a French accent. "Remind me of La Fee Verte."

Satine didn't bother to speak. She slid back a bit on the doorstep where she sat, a light sense of something like fear dancing in the back of her mind. 

_He's going to hurt you,_ a cautious voice whispered in her head. _Leave, now. Run._

And yet she couldn't bring herself to move.

Crooked grin growing wider, he placed a hand on her leg. The action caused disgust to shoot through her veins.

"Don't touch me."

It was a faint whisper, weak and completely devoid of force. His smile grew more malicious.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" he slurred out in a drunken sort of song. 

If she hadn't been terrified out of her mind, it would have been rather funny.

"Go. Away."

Instead, he dragged her up from where she sat and placed his hands firmly on her hips. Another shiver shook her entire slender form.

"Cold, gorgeous?" he asked, hands inching up her spine. "I'll keep ya warm..."

"Get away from me," Satine ordered, voice trembling.

He slid his cold, clammy hands down the back of her dress, and a terrified scream escaped her lips, ringing through the silent dawn.

He slammed his mouth against hers and immediately silenced her voice. She tasted the bitter absinthe, shuddered as he thrust his tongue against her lips. 

She pulled away from him at once, pushing him with the little strength that she possessed. He stumbled to the ground, then glared at her as a furious sort of growl escaped his lips.

"Come _here_, you little bitch," he shouted, eyes glimmering dangerously. He took a few slow, unsteady steps toward her.

"You stay away from me," she ordered, trying to sound as though she wasn't terrified out of her wits.

He only responded with another smile. In an instant, she found herself knocked to the ground. Her head slammed against the pavement, and she fought to keep consciousness. 

He was muttering things; awful, lewd words that even her father hadn't used to yell. 

"Stop," she whimpered helplessly. "Leave me alone, please..."

She felt his hands all over her, felt him tearing at the fabric of her dress. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks as shrieks of agony escaped her lips. The world seemed to swim in front of her eyes, and somewhere in her mind she desperately prayed to die. 

_Black as night...black as coal..._

And suddenly, it stopped.

The sharp sound of a bone breaking filled her ears, and her surroundings resumed their clarity. 

Standing in front of her was a tall man, bathed in the radiance of the rising sun. His skin was a dark chocolate brown, his eyes were sad and solemn.

"T...thank you," she murmured, feeling light-headed as she stared up at her savior.

"You're welcome," he responded softly, eyes fixed, unwavering, on her.

She stared at him a moment more before her eyes fluttered closed, and everything went black.

_Paint it black..._

* * * 

"Do you think we ought to fetch the doctor?" 

"I don't know...oh, Chocolat, what happened to her?"

"I told you all I know."

"D'you think she's...?"

"Of course not, Nini, don't talk about such things!"

"Look, look, her lashes are fluttering!"

Satine slowly opened her eyes to find a blurred crowd of people standing above her. She blinked a few times, and they came into focus: it was a most peculiar crowd indeed. Standing closest to her was an older woman with strawberry blonde curls that were streaked with gray. The woman's face was covered in makeup, and she smelled lightly of smoke and peppermint. Next to her was a jolly-looking red haired man that reminded Satine of a younger Father Christmas, with ruddy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes that were currently shadowed with concern. Behind him was a girl that looked around her age, with shoulder length dark hair and sharp, intense features. Her eyes were lined in kohl, her lips painted a red so bright that it was almost shocking to behold her.

And standing the farthest away, in the corner of the room, still looking solemn and sad, was the man who had saved her. 

Curious, she studied her surroundings, ignoring the adamant throbbing of her head. She was lying on an old matress, and colorful costumes and posters surrounded her. 

"Where am I?" she asked faintly. 

A sneaking suspicion had danced into the back of her mind.

But certainly she couldn't be..._here_, in that awful place with its dancers and lights and prodigal decor. 

The red-haired man smiled gently at her.

"Welcome to the Moulin Rouge."

Songs Used:

Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones


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